


In Parts

by wildestranger



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needs to leave, now, before nerves and desire make him vomit on Longbottom's delectable neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Parts

The Wizengamot gathers in a large underground auditorium. The ceiling is high and the walls are sweating cold, the grey stone looming pale and threatening around them all. It's claustrophobic and intended to be discomforting; for the audience as well as the accused.

This isn't the first hearing Draco has attended, or the most personal. Antonin Dolohov is someone he has known from childhood, but he is not Crabbe Sr., nor Uncle Rabastan, nor Blaise Zabini. Draco has learned to sit through the half-dead stares of old friends and new enemies, knows how to drone out the strident tones of the Assistant Adversarial Wizard, or how to breathe through the mouldy air of the room, or how to mix whiskey and espresso to produce an uncaring heartbeat for the next two hours.

Still, he is sweating under his winter robes and his hands are freezing in his pockets. He takes a deep breath, and starts to look around, his eyes flitting unseeing from one dark group to another, avoiding the torches and the glaringly lit walls.

There's a young man sitting in front of him. Dark messy hair, and for a moment Draco flinches and thinks _Potter,_ but then he remembers that Potter wouldn't sit in the back, that Potter isn't that tall and his hair is shorter anyway. Not these heavy locks curling in the damp air, brushing the side of the neck with lazy abandon.

Then the broad shoulders and the shape of the head click into place, and Draco thinks _Longbottom._

The skin of his neck is pale and clammy, and Draco can see the collar of his (old-fashioned) woollen robes leaving scratching marks on the curve of the spine. It occurs to him that this is something he would never see otherwise - Longbottom is three inches taller than him, and doesn't generally bend over like this for Draco. That might be why the sight of his neck, exposed and vulnerable and there right in front of him, causes Draco's hands to shake and his breathing to quicken.

He is already nauseous from the room, from the smell of the prisoners and the cold glee on the Prosecutor's face (she's a Gryffindor, naturally, unthinking and full of righteousness). Watching the gleam of Longbottom's skin, noting the tiny mole almost hidden by the heavy hair, makes his belly tighten and his head grow dizzy, and Draco fears he might throw up.

This is not a place where he can show weakness, not that any location would be appropriate for obsessing over Longbottom's neck. Draco sits up straighter, takes a long breath, and thinks about wide open fields, green and sunny, the grass moving in the breeze. Fresh air on his face and pale skin before his mouth, delicate and tasty and making him moan with want and…

Right. He needs to leave, now, before nerves and desire make him vomit on Longbottom's delectable neck. Breathing hard, Draco stumbles out of his bench, clutches Longbottom's shoulder by accident (to keep from falling), and tries not to feel the slightest smidgeon of bare skin under his fingers. He apologises but doesn't look at Longbottom, and feels his gaze on him (everybody watching, always) as he runs from the room.

: :

He almost forgets about the whole thing (almost, tries to, doesn't). Until he gets crushed against Longbottom in yet another room heaving with people (the Ministry Ball for Disenfranchised House-Elves is a compulsory event for all employees, even part-time legal liaisons like Draco) he doesn't think about it, makes a point of disallowing all trajectories of thought that involve Longbottom's body in connection with his own. But pressed against him, the wall solid and ungiving behind his back and Longbottom's arm almost touching his ear (trying to keep them apart, thankfully, but without much success), he can't help it.

The crowd is shifting around them, witches and wizards in evening robes entangled in various combinations of bodily contact and consequent swearing and/or giggling. Everybody is trying to find their way towards the dining hall, to sample the entrees and avoid Granger's speech on the development of self-sufficiency plans for unemployed elves. Longbottom, however, doesn't move; trapping Draco against the wall, shielding him from the sea of bodies. Draco knows that waiting is the sensible thing to do - he wouldn't get far even if he managed to extricate himself from Longbottom's arms. Yet it unnerves him to stand so close, to see Longbottom's pale brown eyes looking steadfastly into his own, to smell the soap on his skin. Not to mention the body that is slowly pressed into his, the force of the crowd forcing them against each other, closer.

And Longbottom still hasn't got the manners to stop staring. Draco takes a deep breath, looks away

"So, you come here often?"

Draco sounds bored, slightly annoyed, hoping for offensive. Instead, Longbottom bites his lip and grins. "Hermione hasn't let me miss one yet, so yes, I do. What about yourself?"

Flushing, Draco turns to glare at him. "I was joking, you nitwit. And what do you think? Does anyone get away from these things?"

Longbottom smiles again. His mouth looks wide and soft and too close, and Draco can see the wet gleam on his lips, the pink tip of the tongue. Far too close.

"Harry's managed a few times, I think. Something about a Quidditch accident, and the roof of the Burrow. Not sure if Hermione actually believes him, though, or if she's just letting him get away with it."

There's a shrug and another grin to accompany the speech, and Draco really needs to get away from those very white teeth, and those broad shoulders.

"Why are you telling me this? Do you think I care about what your ridiculous friends get up to? Of course Potter gets special treatment, he always does."

Not the most politic of things to say in a crowded ballroom filled with Gryffindors, but Draco is going slowly mad and ranting about Potter always puts him in a better mood. Longbottom doesn't seem to mind, he just smiles again (surely the man must have some sort of impediment that makes him react with this inappropriate stretching of lips to everything) and nods. And then moves slightly, his leg sliding between Draco's thighs.

They both stop breathing.

Because Longbottom is hard, his cock is nudging weakly against Draco's hip, hot and hard and there, and Draco is suddenly terrified. Not least because he has a bad feeling that his own erection isn't being terribly subtle against Longbottom's thigh, and fuck how did he get into this situation. He takes a deep breath, ends up rubbing against Longbottom who makes a small moan and blushes, and tries to think.

The Ministry entertainment halls are all protected by anti-Apparation spells, but he might be able to find a usable fireplace somewhere in the second floor. There's too many people for anyone to notice (or even see, although possibly feel considering the crowds) his hard-on, so he should be okay once he manages to get away from Longbottom. Who is currently frowning at Draco, and wetting his lips with far too much gusto.

Then he coughs, shifts a little closer (Draco bites down a whimper), and says: "Look, we should….we should go somewhere. Find a place, a room, or…"

Fuck. No. he can't, they can't, just fuck, no. Draco tries to flatten himself against the wall and closes his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'm afraid I have to go now, previous engagement, you see, and oh, since it looks like the speeches are about to finish I'll just…"

He wrenches himself away, still not looking at Longbottom, A warm hand tries to settle on his shoulder but he brushes it off, stumbling slightly as he starts pushing against the crowd.

He gets home just in time to press a hand against his cock and spill all over his fingers.

: :

The next day Draco takes time off work (to overcome the trauma of the previous evening) and stays at home. He slouches on the sofa, tries to read, tries to make himself eat so that he won't get sick from hunger. But his stomach rebels and he feels dizzy, as well as nervous and frightened and exhilarated. Because it's Longbottom, and his body had been so warm, and for a moment he had looked at Draco like he was something worth seeing. But because inappropriate crushes on Gryffindors do not make Draco's life better.

It's 9 pm when his visitor arrives, and Draco has just finished his pepperoni pizza (a Muggle invention he has grown very fond of, especially the ones that are delivered). He wipes his fingers on a napkin (because one should always keep up appearances, and there is no reason not to have fine cotton napkins with takeaway), experiences a moment of sheer panic, and gets up to answer the door.

Longbottom is just about to knock again when Draco pulls the door open.

For a moment they say nothing, remain motionless and awed, because what the fuck are they doing? Then Draco steps back, Longbottom steps in, and the rest is inevitable.

Draco tries, though. "Look, I don't know what you wanted to talk about but I've actually had a very long day, and so if you wouldn't mind keep it brief…"

Normally, Draco would be fully capable of continuing his monologue for several hours without any encouragement, but at the moment Longbottom's mouth seems to be in the way of further discussion, and there is a greedy tongue licking Draco's lips, tempting them to open, to let him in. Draco is carefully pushed against the wall in his hallway, Longbottom's solid body covering his, Longbottom's hands framing his face. He can't not open, not against such honest desire, not against such warmth. Draco slides his hands under Longbottom's shirt and moans into his mouth.

He should really feel embarrassed about how desperate he sounds, how much longing is evident in the way he rubs his cheek against Longbottom's and presses open-mouthed kisses everywhere. But it's too much, it feels so much and Draco stops caring about dignity when Longbottom starts sucking on his earlobe. And there are hands getting under his clothes, blunt fingers with clumsy nails tracing every muscle and curve of bone, Draco's still-too-prominent ribs meriting as much attention as the soft flesh of his belly.

It's also rather embarrassing to be doing this in the hallway, but Draco doesn't manage to free his mouth for long enough to suggest adjourning to the bedroom, and after a while he stops minding because there is a perfectly good wall here, and really, the wall is wonderful, the wall is lovely, the wall is what he's about to be fucked against.

Not fucked, precisely, but there is definitely some lifting of robes and pulling down of undergarments (it's winter and Draco's flat has poor insulation, not to mention that there is nothing wrong with long-johns) going on. Mostly by Longbottom, since Draco is busy gasping for air and making choked whimpering noises, but as long as it gets done who cares about the division of labour.

Then heated flesh against his, sweaty private flesh that he hasn't stopped dreaming about these past few weeks, and Draco almost wants to push Longbottom back so that he can have a look. Later, he promises himself, he will see it, touch it, follow every crease and joint of it with his mouth. Now it matters more to have Longbottom's hips aligning against his, his hipbones digging into Draco's thighs as he is lifted up and rubbed against, Longbottom's mouth open on his neck, moaning into his skin.

They don't stop kissing until Draco has whined into Longbottom's cheek and spilled over his hand, until gentle hands have stroked away the trembling from his sides, until Longbottom has moaned and come over Draco's belly. They lie still, huddled against the wall in Draco's hallway, panting into each other's mouths.

Until the floor becomes uncomfortable and Longbottom starts giving him weird looks, and Draco decides to pretend to be hospitable.

"So, fancy a cup of tea?"

: :

Later, when tea and day-old scones have been consumed and after Longbottom has tried to have a Talk, which Draco has promptly deflected with a blowjob, they end up in bed. In his actual bedroom, with sheets and pillows and a nice set of furry handcuffs, which were supposed to be an embarrassing and publicly given present from Pansy, but which Draco has found quite useful. Tied to the bedposts, with Longbottom's fingers inside him and sharp teeth grazing his belly, Draco considers telling her about this latest adventure.

Then Longbottom bends his head to swallow Draco's cock and he is presented with the same view that drove him mad weeks ago, the pale, vulnerable neck, almost hidden by heavy hair and with Draco's teeth marks on the nape.

Something clicks into place and Draco smiles, thinks_ no, this is private. _

_This is mine._


End file.
